The Drabbles
by TallulahBelle
Summary: This will be a collection of writing exercises or challenges based on characters from Twilight.
1. I Feel You

**Written for Emmy of Perv Pack Smut Shack. Inspired by "Pervy Picspiration" posts**

**Characters: Edward & Bella  
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**Beta'd by Lucette212  
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**Rating: M (for sexual situations) - please note that this drabble is NOT for everyone.  
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**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to SMeyer**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

_Blonde_

_Redhead_

_Brunette… yeah, __**definitely**__ brunette tonight. _

_Maybe that Christmas shoot in the British Vogue from last year would be best…_

The lean, muscular young man with dark bronze hair curling over his white, dress shirt collar, sat down on the antique rug covering the hard-wood floor to allow him a comfortable seat while searching through his collection of fashion magazines. He bent forward and reverently ran a finger down one of the stacks of paper spines that were organized on low wooden shelves. Everything was in order of year starting with the June two-thousand seven American issue of Vogue. He gave it a brief caress as one would a rabbit's foot or other such object of luck.

He quickly moved his long calloused fingertips over to another stack and came to a halt midway when he saw the December issue. Reverently, he pulled it out and laid it on the floor. He carefully turned the pages until he reached the section with the stark background of a white room, a glass chair, and _her _sitting regally in it dressed in a crimson gown with her dark hair flowing over her shoulders.

A low moan filled the space around the man as he moved trembling fingers to the photo before him.

"Oh, _Bella_…" he sighed as the stirrings of lust crept up his body.

He turned the page to the next photo and became warmer from the expression on her face. The pout of her ruby lips, parted and silently promising to fulfill every secret wish of his sent him tearing at the small buttons on his shirt.

When he came to the last page, he needed more. As he turned back to the stacks he pulled the shirt from his now awakened body and threw it across the room.

Frantically, he pulled out a few more issues: Elle Spring edition '08, Glamour Summer edition '09, and Vogue Fall edition '10.

All of them featured pictorials of the model, Isabella Swan, or Bella as she was nicknamed by the designers, editors and photographers who adored her. It was a way of showing familiarity and affection for her. But for him, it felt like a whisper of her true essence. Isabella was too austere, but Bella was perfection.

He spread magazines out on the carpet, flipping to the first photo until he came across the diaphanously draped body of his beloved girl on a beach. Her eyes were big, brown, speaking of her desire for him. The next page showed her naked back with a hint of her lush breast as she peaked over her shoulder to the camera.

"God, Bella, sweetheart…" he groaned as he moved his hand into his lap, brushing his hand against his penis that was now painfully pressed against the fly of his grey dress pants.

He unzipped his pants and removed them, throwing them across the room like they were something offensive. His boxer briefs followed shortly after, leaving him naked except for his socks. He couldn't worry about that last bit of clothing as he was too aroused to by the glimpse of Bella's coral nipple that peeked through the wet fabric on the page.

Breathing was becoming harder as magazine after magazine teased him further. He reached down and started stroking himself, hoping to relive or prolong the feelings he had within him.

He flipped through more pages, seeing her change from bashful to laughing, then back to pouting. She was a creature of sensuality that demanded his attention like a mythological, singing a song that was only for him. Only Bella could do this to him, bring out the need and then tantalize him until he was at the brink of pleasure.

His movements became faster and could no longer stay in his sitting position. He rolled onto his back and let his mind wander to all the images of his girl…especially to the one of her staring into the camera, into his soul, wanting him to come for her; to show her how she made him feel.

"Yes…for _you_, Bella. I will for you," he said feeling the first tingle of his orgasm.

He looked over at the stacks next to him and reached out his hand to touch them, needing the physical connection. He stroked the glossy paper one last time as his climax hit him full force causing him to hoarsely cry out her name.

"Bella!"

He couldn't move for a long time afterwards. It was only as he heard the crinkle of the paper under his back that he realized he was destroying his beautiful girl's features. He got up and cleaned up the haphazard pile on the carpet, placing them back neatly on the shelf before he headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

There was almost a moment of panic as he scrubbed the layer of sweat away from his body. He felt like he was washing Bella away, but he relaxed and knew that they would have time again tomorrow to be together.

She moved her ear away from the wall that was next to _his_ apartment. His shower was running and could hear no more of his voice. She was feeling an acute ache and dampness between her thighs that made it hard for her to walk to the couch in the center of her best friend's living room.

She sat down and leaned back, resting her head against the soft cushion day dreaming of being on the receiving end of _his_ touch.

She had first seen him a month ago when she visited Rose after a particularly nasty day at work. He was all thumbs as he carried multiple bags, one which looked like a laptop among them, to his front door. He had dropped one of those bags and she had run over to help him.

As she stood next to him she first noticed his clean scent. It was pure male. Then she glanced up and saw a shock of thick reddish, brown hair flopping over his eyes. It was beautiful. Her gaze slid south to his strong jaw and full lips, all just as beautiful as the rest of him.

By the time she placed an apple into one of his bags, she was infatuated.

He had murmured an embarrassed thank you, never once looking at her, as he rushed to get into his apartment. She didn't blame him for trying to get away from her. She was dressed in dirty jeans, a hoodie with large sunglasses and greasy hair pulled up tightly in a bun on top of her head.

It may have been only a few seconds, but after _that_ meeting she couldn't stop thinking about her friend's neighbor.

She was able glean some information on her mystery man from Rose. His name was Edward and he was a computer wunderkind. He was a loner and didn't go out much except for work.

_No girlfriend._

That only wetted her appetite for more information.

Thus, the frequent visits to Rose's. She found excuses to be at her friend's place, hoping to "run into" her Edward again. That never came to be, though, during one of her visits she heard what sounded like the sounds one made during sex through the wall that was connected to Edward's apartment.

At first she blushed, feeling awkward to be even hearing those noises, but then the curiosity overcame her and she pressed her ear to the cool wall wanting more. When he came, he yelled out a name that sounded oddly familiar.

After that it was an obsession to hear those sounds. Each time she successfully "witnessed" his show, she felt the need to climb through the wall and be with him. The need became stronger and stronger with each visit.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Can't go to sleep yet, we have a party to hit later," Rose exclaimed, flicking her shoulder, jolting her out of her head.

"Sorry, I'll get dressed," she said, feeling a little sad to be leaving Edwardland.

"Stalking my neighbor again?" Rose started with a mischievous smile. "You know, why don't you go over there wearing my vintage black Alaia dress and show him exactly what all those drooling fashion people capture with their lenses."

"Rose, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't, Bella, sure you don't."


	2. Behind the Wheel

**Tumblr pic inspiration from Vican (you can find the photos on my author's page)**

**Characters: Edward & Bella**

**Beta'd by Shalu and Ninapolitan **

**Rating: M (for language)  
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**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to SMeyer**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

It's the first day of check-in to the dorms at the small, private college on the East Coast that Edward Cullen attended when he wished he was _anywhere_but there. His best friend and roommate had been kicked out at the end of the last school year, and Edward was not in the mood to act cheerful amidst the surge of happily returning students, acting like nothing happened. He was extremely irritated that James' position was quickly given away as if his last few years of carving new ground with paint and canvas never happened. No one seemed to care that what he had been doing was amazing work.

_Fucking assholes and their God damn money, thinking they could dictate what art should be when they've never picked up a brush a day in their life._

Most of the students would only want to know why James was not coming back and inundate him with a stream of annoying questions. He didn't want to face any of _those_people yet.

_ Fucking leeches with no soul._

Edward stormed out of his dorm room, unable to take the continuing laughter, and headed for his car. He needed a drive on the back roads, where none of the cops would hassle him. He needed to feel the wind sailing past him, giving him the feeling of flying, far, far away from this school that was quickly turning into another circle of hell.

Bertha would have to be his sanctuary now that James was gone. She understood him with a mere touch on the wheel, giving him the ability to transcend to another realm. She started up quickly, giving a roar in greeting to his foot on her pedal, agreeing with his need to fly.

As he backed out and drove through the parking lot towards the exit, he noticed that James' parking space was now occupied by his successor. He thought about continuing onto the road, but he withheld, knowing this may be his last chance to get a good look at who his competition was going to be…and felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

All the violent resentment that he had built in his head about the new student coming to take his best friend's place in one of the country's most prestigious fine arts programs, died.

Covered in clothes that had seen better days, she swung a green bag onto her shoulder before shutting the passenger door of her Mini. She wasn't typical of the girls of the area, but there was something inviting about the pale curve of her shoulder and the swirl of warm sepia hair floating around her delicate features that sparked his artistic interest.

The familiar twinge he got in his right hand when he was ready to start another painting clawed up his arm like mad, demanding he turn the car around and walk- no, _run_, for his studio to try to capture some semblance of her essence. The last time he had this severe of a need to put brush to canvas was, well…_never_.

Who was this girl?


End file.
